


Aftermath

by evieeden



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Iron Man Flash Bang 2018, Natalie Rushman - Freeform, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 13:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieeden/pseuds/evieeden
Summary: He wakes up the next morning with no idea where the suit is.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of the Iron Man Flash Bang 2018 to fulfill the prompt: Iron Man gets so drunk, he loses the suit.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it, even though this is more of the morning after. Thanks :)

Tony staggered into the small town and collapsed into a chair outside the first open taverna with parasols outside that he could see, the midday sun burning holes through his skull.

Not that the shade helped his pounding head at all, but then, he didn’t suppose they sold aspirin here. Where was a helpful minion when he needed one?

And where was the suit? And his phone?

He cursed himself internally for drinking too much last night, especially given that he had woken up in the middle of a wood somewhere just outside of the town and then had to stagger towards civilisation again one painful, head-jarring step at a time. It brought to the fore uncomfortable reminders of Afghanistan that he really didn’t need.

A smiling waiter brought forward a plate of tapas and some water, and also held out a bottle of wine for inspection, which made his stomach flip over.

“No thanks. Non, gracias.” Tony dug around his brain for the Spanish for phone and in the end just settled for a hand gesture and the English. “Cellphone, please. Do you have a cell?”

He received a blank look in return from the young boy and waved him off. The pounding in his head was too much for a fun game of charades to get what he wanted.

That left one option for getting out of there – well, lots of options really, but he wasn’t ready for the lecture he would receive from most of them, especially given his headache, so he went with the hopefully-no-lecture-included option, which luckily was still available to him given that his phone was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, Tony dug his fingers into the loose heel of his shoe and fished around before yanking out a small, plastic device. He eyed it suspiciously, remembering the anger he had felt when he first discovered the innumerable small buttons that lined his clothing and were painstakingly glued into all his shoes. It took a good few months before he could see the advantage of the precautionary measure. He pressed the button and a red light immediately began blinking.

Well, that was the cavalry on the way.

He should be on the lookout for his rescue, but tiredness in combination with the headache was beginning to wash over him so he settled for slumping over the table, his face in one hand, the other occasionally shoving surprisingly-good calamari into his mouth.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually the sound of a vehicle pulling up caught his attention. He blinked as the car door swung open and one heeled boot appeared followed by the other, and walked towards where he was sitting.

“Mr Stark. Did you miss me?” a low voice asked.

He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face and held out his hand. “Only while you were away, Miss Rushman.”

Natasha smiled back as she grabbed the offered hand and used her grip to haul him to his feet. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she threw a couple of bills on the table and practically dragged him to the car, where she magically produced a pair of sunglasses for him.

“You’re a goddess,” he told her.

“No,” she pulled the car back onto the road, “we’ve just been here before.”

He winced at that. Way to hit him where it hurt. But then, he supposed, that was what she’d been trained to do. He glared out the window.

“We’ve located the suit, by the way,” Natasha casually announced, breaking the silence hanging over the car.

“Oh yeah,” he turned to give her his full attention, “Where was it?”

Tony could barely remember any of the finer details of the previous night.

“Did I leave it in a dump? I feel like I left it in a dump.”

Natasha snorted, an ungraceful sound that made him like her a little more. “Not exactly. Reports say you had a drink…or two…flew around the town and then just walked out of it in the middle of a park saying you felt sick.”

He sniffed dismissively. “I can hold my drink. Although, I’m surprised no-one tried to steal it.”

Natasha slapped at his hand, which was fidgeting with the car radio. “They did. But luckily you have authorisation protocols in place to prevent that.”

“Huh? So I do.”

“That’s why I was able to pick you up so quickly,” Natasha explained. “Because they called me here to collect the suit.”

Tony side-eyed her. “I thought you said I had authorisation protocols in place to stop that.”

Natasha grinned rather smugly. “You do. To stop Shield.” She reached into her pocket without looking and drew out a Stark Industries Employee card. “But not to stop Natalie Rushman, for some reason.” The card disappeared. “The suit is packed up and back in your hotel room, which we are nearly at, and I’ve booked the jet to take you home.”

He waited for her to ask the inevitable question about why he was out joyriding in the suit in the first place, but she didn’t. He was slightly grateful for that. He didn’t want to get into the whole thing with him and Pepper, although Natasha probably already knew everything anyway.

The car swerved up to the front entrance of his hotel and stopped with a squeal.

“Will that be all, Mr Stark.” He could hear the laughter in her voice.

“Yes, that will be all, Miss Rushman.”

He got out the car, then hesitated and abruptly leaned back in. Natasha, to her credit, didn’t even blink at his abrupt turn. A thought had sprung to mind and the more he turned it over, the more he liked it.

“Actually…I’m in the market for a new assistant.”

She looked him over – took in the rumpled clothing, the scruffy beard and the lingering smell of scotch – and then smiled, a cat-like, dangerous thing.

“I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
